


Priorities

by Grey_Water_Ghost



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Alcoholic Tony Stark, Angst, Divorce, M/M, Messy Divorce, Superfamily (Marvel), parenting is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4349765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grey_Water_Ghost/pseuds/Grey_Water_Ghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve loved Tony, he really really did. He could look past a little fighting, a few broken trinkets, but he would not allow Tony to traumatize his baby.<br/>Steve was at Peter’s door in a flash, shoving his husband away. “Who are you?” He gawked, “I don’t know you anymore.” </p>
<p>Sometimes marriage isn't as happy as everyone makes it out to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Priorities

There had probably been a few signs that the marriage was a mistake. Like when Tony came down with a horrible cold a week before the wedding, or when Steve ripped his white suit on his way to the chapel; but it’s hard to see those signs when you’re in love.

The first year of marriage had been wonderful. The honeymoon stage seemed like it would never end and the two of them had never felt better. But Steve wanted a baby. He wanted a baby with every fiber of his being--he saw them everywhere! And Tony wasn’t sure. He said he wasn’t ready; said they should enjoy their marriage alone for a little bit longer…

Steve should have stopped then. Tony just needed time, and Steve should have been able to wait. It was one of those signs again, but Steve loved Tony and he wanted Tony to love a baby, too.

So he pushed. And pushed. And pushed. For months, Steve dominated every conversation with “operation baby”. And finally, Tony broke.

When the adoption papers went through, Steve had never looked happier, not even after Tony proposed. They moved out of little apartment in the city, bought a cute house in the burbs with a big yard and baby proof everything, and Tony swore he was happy! He wanted to be, at least. Steve was so happy, he couldn’t just tell him he’d changed his mind.

When baby Peter came, the sex stopped. But Tony figured that wouldn’t last long. Babies grew up, after all. But then going out on dates stopped, alone time stopped. When Tony had to go into the city for work one day, he wanted Steve to come. He promised he would get the most qualified nanny in the country but Steve wouldn’t hear it. Not his baby.

It was the first time Tony drank in 10 years.

A new routine started. Tony went into the city and Steve stayed home with the baby. Tony’s little drinks turned into big ones. Buzzed became plastered. Day trips turned into weekends.

The first time Tony came home drunk, he had managed to stay conscious for a total of 60 seconds before passing out in his husband’s arms. Steve had been mortified. In fact, he’d been about to call 9-1-1 when he’d smelt the booze on his breath. He tucked Tony into bed and swore they would talk about it in the morning…. But then Peter got the sniffles and Steve had to rush him off to his doctor. By the time Steve joined Tony in bed that night, he was already asleep.

The second time Tony came home drunk, he managed to stay conscious. Peter was already in bed and Steve had waited up for his husband. There he confronted him; told him to go back to AA. He told him that he would help him every step of the way. But Drunk Tony was Flirty Tony and he wouldn’t listen until Steve kissed him. He refused to move from the doorway until Steve blew him.

* * *

The third time Tony came home drunk, Steve was furious. Tony had promised he was getting clean--that he was in AA! They fought, yelling as loud as they dared with Peter sleeping.  
Drunk Tony turned into Angry Tony.

Angry Tony smashed the crystal vase Sharon got them as a wedding gift.

But Steve loved Tony, and he refused to think of it as anything but a rough patch.

Tony apologized the next morning, and when Steve came back from the park with Peter, there were ten crystal vases on the table. Tony even made dinner! (Which was horrible-- they ditched the meal and ordered Thai food instead). Everything was going to be fine. It was a rough patch, that was all. Tony was just having trouble getting sober.

Tony kept coming home drunk, though. They fought, they screamed. But Sober Tony always apologized, and Steve forgave him because he loved him, and because they were just going through a rough patch.

They continued like that for a while, and more and more often, Steve pretended it wasn’t happening. He desperately tried not to notice how Peter got quieter and ran to Steve far more often than he ran to Tony. He knew they were barely holding everything together and their balancing act wouldn’t last forever.

“Why don’t we fuck anymore?!” The drunken Tony slurred, “We haven’t fucked in a month!”

Steve shot him a look, then glanced at Peter’s closed door. “If you’re going to shout, don’t swear, too!” He snapped, “Do you want Peter to pick up those words?”

“Oh! Peter this! Peter that! Why don’t you marry Peter! Oh wait--you married ME!”

Steve sucked in a harsh breath through his nose. “You’re jealous of your three year old son?”

“I bet you fuck Peter!” Tony shouted and shoved past Steve, reaching his son’s bedroom door. “Peter!” He yelled, pouting against it with his fist, “Peter! Does Papa fuck you?!”

Steve loved Tony, he really really did. He could look past a little fighting, a few broken trinkets, but he would not allow Tony to traumatize his baby.

Steve was at Peter’s door in a flash, shoving his husband away. “Who are you?” He gawked, “I don’t know you anymore.”

“M’yer fuckin’ husband,” Tony spat, “or did you forget?”

“If this is who you are now--I don’t think I’d like to remember.” Steve spoke carefully. No, not Tony… God let this be a nightmare… Steve pursed his lips. “I’m taking Peter and we are staying at Sam’s tonight,” He told him as calmly as he could manage- before turning and running into his poor baby’s room.

The three year old was already sitting up in bed with wide eyes. “Papa?” Steve was already throwing together a bag. “Papa?” Peter asked again, gripping the sheets in fists.

“We’re visiting Sam, Pete,” Steve dismissed, trying to keep his voice tranquil and non-threatening.

The words seemed to finally snap Tony out of his daze. Steve wasn’t kidding… “No!” He burst into the room. “You are not taking my son!”

Steve’s vision blurred against his will but he had already packed enough clothes for a few days. The blond went to the bed, picking Peter up and resting the little one on his hip.

“Papa!” Peter was crying now, “What’s wrong with Daddy?”

Steve only hushed him. “Be good for Papa, baby, hold your backpack.”

“No!” Tony shouted again, ripping the backpack from Peter’s terrified grip, “You can’t--”

“Don’t you touch him!” Steve hissed, yanking Peter away and cradling him to his side protectively. His vision may have been swimming, but he was still able to see the raw pain on his husband’s face. “Come on, Peter,” he murmured and grabbed the backpack again, heading to the door.

“What happened to ‘til death do us part?” Came Tony’s hoarse, almost sober voice.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, pausing in the doorway. “The man I married already died.”

* * *

  
The divorce had been the worst month of Steve’s life. Tony begged him to stay, and God did he want to. But he couldn’t; a drunken Tony was a danger to his son and Steve wouldn’t force Peter into a childhood just like his own. Tony said he would sober up, and Steve almost believed him, but getting sober was a process, one that he wouldn’t make Peter be around for.

It was tough on more than just the two of them; Peter needed him more than ever now. Steve would have even less time to spend with Tony if he stayed. How long would it be until he turned to the bottle again? No. It was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life--but it was the best for all of them if they separated. And hey, maybe Tony needed to hit rock bottom before he would change, and if that meant hating Steve? So be it.

Steve loved Tony, he really did.  
\------  
Sam was great, really. Sometimes he was the only thing that kept Steve going (and he hated those days--Peter should be more than enough to keep him going). Sam was supportive, and he let Steve and Peter move in without a second thought. He helped Steve, listened to him, and did everything he could for him. Not to mention, he was great with Peter. He practiced soccer in the yard with him everyday, helped him with the carpool; hell, sometimes, when Steve was too tired or too sick, he would let him stay in bed all day and take off work so Peter had someone.

Aside from a few drunken calls from Tony (Tony only ever had the nerve to call when he was drunk), Steve was happy. Sam made him happy, and Peter loved him… and Steve wanted to.

* * *

  
“Papa?”

Steve looked up as Peter came puddling in, marking his page and putting his book aside. “What is it, Little Bug?”

Peter stopped, wide eyed and suddenly bashful, right in front of Steve’s plush armchair. “You, you know I, uh, I have my, um, my piano recital Sunday?” He mumbled.

Steve’s eyebrows knit together and he leaned forward. “Yeah, Peter, I know…”

“Well, uh,” Peter continued, twisting his fingers together as he spoke, “I, um, I wanna, uh, wanna invite--invite Daddy…”

The request left Steve speechless.

Right after the divorce, Peter refused to leave Steve’s side, loud noises terrified him, and he had nightmares nearly every night. It took him a half a year to even fully open up to Sam. Luckily, the other helped a lot and Peter started to ask if he could sleep with both Sam and Papa (which was how the two of them began sharing a bed). After another year, Peter was still shy around new adults, but all sense of fear and trauma seemed to be gone.

Steve knew he would start asking about Tony again, it was bound to happen and two years seemed like plenty of time to get curious. Yet somehow, Steve had figured it would happen much much later--after things were magically fixed.  
“O-Oh.” Was all he could manage.

Peter visibly deflated, “I-I was just--I wanted--” His lower lip began to tremble and he had to cut himself off.

“Oh, Peter,” Steve scooped him up in his arms where the five year old curled into him, pressing his face into his neck.

“I-Is Daddy still sick?” Peter asked.

Steve squeezed him tight, hating to see his baby boy so upset. “I don’t know, baby,” He admitted. “I’ll invite him, okay? But he might be too sick to come, Little Bug.”

Peter sniffled and nodded, “I know…” He told him.

Steve kissed his head. “And you know that Papa and Birdie love you so much?” He bounced him just a bit in his arms, trying to get a laugh out of Peter.

The little boy granted him a small smile. “I know, Papa.”

It wasn’t perfect, but they were getting there.

“Good,” Steve hummed.

“I’m home!”

Steve looked up as the door opened and what appeared to be a giant pile of paper bags walked in. “How about we help Birdie bring in the groceries, Little Bug?” Steve poked and tickled his sides, causing the five year old to giggle and squirm.  
“Birdie!” Peter shrieked and was already running to the backdoor, wrapping around his leg tightly.

Sam let out an ‘oof!’, passing the bags to Steve who had followed behind. “Thanks, Babe,” he kissed his cheek before turning to Peter. “And just what are you doing?”

Peter giggled, hugging his leg tighter. “Helping!”

Sam huffed in faux irritation, “Well we better get to helping!” And went back out the door to the car, Peter shrieking with laughing all the way.

“Watch out for the stairs!” Steve called after them, putting away the other groceries before they spoiled.

* * *

  
“Peter’s down,” Steve announced as he came back into the kitchen. As the nightmares became less common, they’d managed to get Peter sleeping in his own room again. Sam and Steve had continued their sleeping routine, though. He slipped behind Sam, circling his arms around his waist and resting his head on his shoulder. “And out bedtime isn’t for another three hours.”

Sam chuckled, covering Steve hands with his own. “My my,” he hummed, “Aren’t we lucky?”

Steve laughed. “How was work?”

“It was fine,” Sam sighed, “I’d much rather have been here with you two. What did you and Pete do all day?”

Steve tensed just a bit, taking the moment to press his face into the other’s neck before speaking again. “We made pancakes,” He listed, “and went to the park, and listened to Harry Potter on tape, and, uh…” He paused, “And Peter asked if Tony could come to his piano recital…”

Sam turned around in his arms; shock clear on his face. “He did?”

Steve nodded, chewing his lip as he looked up at him. “Yeah… and I think he really wants him to be there.”

Sam took a deep breath, kissing Steve’s forehead. “Can you handle him being there?"

“Can he?” Steve countered, “What if he’s drunk? What if he freaks out again? He hadn’t seen Peter since that night, what if Peter can’t handle it?”

Sam smoothed his hands up and down Steve’s arms, “Hey, hey, don’t work yourself up, Darling...” He kissed Steve’s forehead again, this time leaving his lips there. “I’ll be there, I’ll step in if anything happens. I can get Peter out of there in a minute flat.”

Steve sighed, letting Sam pull back and leaned up to kiss him. “I know,” he said after they separated. “I… I’m scared to see him, Sam.” The last time Steve had seen Tony in person had been in the courtroom. They were fighting, again, when Steve said he really wanted to go through with it. Tony had looked him right in the eye and told him he hated him.

Steve loved Tony, he really did--he still did.

* * *

  
Steve didn’t know how to invite Tony. Sure, he knew how to contact him, but how? Asking him in person was 100% out of the question; Steve didn’t trust himself. He would get all choked up and forget how to talk and say something stupid that he would regret. Calling him didn’t seem like a good idea, either. It would be easier than seeing him in person, sure, but he would still get flustered and say the wrong thing.

Email was too formal. Besides, Tony hated email because it “reminded him of work”. Tony probably didn't even check his email regularly anymore; it could be days before he replied. So texting seemed like the only option (even if it wasn’t his favorite method of communication).

While he’d been able to put it off for three days by means of that little problem, he couldn’t any longer. Sunday was approaching and Steve would have to at least do good by Peter and ask.

* * *

  
It was after seven drafts that Steve finally messaged Tony.

Peter has a piano recital this Sunday and he wants you to be there. -S

Steve stared at the screen in agony, his heart pounding in his ears. It was noon, Tony was probably at at work and he had to be at least half sober there. It wasn’t until a half hour later, though, that Tony texted back (Steve had never been more grateful for his alone time while Peter was at kindergarten).

I am in Berlin for work this weekend. -T

Steve’s heart dropped. All this time he had been worried about what it would be like with Tony there--all the “what if’s”. He’d forgotten: What if Tony doesn’t show? It would break Peter’s heart, he was sure of it. What kid wouldn’t be devastated? Anger bubbled up and he clenched his jaw.

He asked for you to be there specifically. -S

The reply was much faster this time and Steve wasn’t sure if he liked that or not.

Tell him I can’t make it. I’ll be in Berlin. -T

Maybe Steve should have left it there, just explained it to Peter and taken him out for ice cream. He and Sam would make it up to him in any way they could--they would be what Tony wasn’t.  
But Steve wasn’t ready to do that.

Well don’t be in Berlin. Be there for your son. -S

Steve grinned triumphantly at the phone screen but it shattered mere seconds later.

Oh he’s my son now? I thought he was your baby. -S

Steve’s voice recalled his protective words in an instant and he winced as the scene came back to him…

 

_“Don’t you talk about my son like that!” Steve hissed in the divorce office._

_“Newsflash, Blondie, he’s my son, too! I want to be able to see him!”_

_“Well you don’t get to see him! He’s not your son anymore--not after that! You don’t even love him!”_

I don’t love him, remember? -T

No response? Come on, Blondie, I know you read it, I get a notification. -T

Steve stared at the screen, shaking with livid rage. How dare he! How could Tony treat him like this?! He typed out several hateful drafts before settling with something more benign. He wasn’t going to play into that.

Hate me all you want, but don’t crush Peter’s dream to get back at me. He doesn’t deserve that and you know it. -S

An hour passed without a response and Steve finally put his phone away to get to the cleaning and starting dinner. He had hoped that Tony would be bigger than that--that he would be able to see past their differences to give Peter the childhood that neither of them had. But maybe he had over estimated Tony… Maybe he was perfectly happy at rock bottom.

Hell, maybe he really did hate Steve.

* * *

  
What time is it -T

Steve glanced down at his phone from where he sat in the stands at Peter’s game. He had to do a double take at the message. Two days later and he was finally hearing from Tony? His eyes were glued to the notification, the teasing pulse of “slide to unlock”.

Was this even real?

He very nearly dropped the phone as Sam shot to his feet next to him. “Nice save, Pete! Do the spidey kick!”

Steve glanced up at the field in time to see Peter smiling proudly at the two of them.

“Best damn peewee goalie in New York,” Sam boasted to the parents sitting around them. Steve smiled up at him. This was what he loved about Sam. Tony had never been this parental.

His phone buzzed a second time with the notification. This time he answered.

1:30 on Sunday -S

Where? -T

Saint Michael's Church. -S

Steve bit his lip. Was this a trick? Some sort of sick, cruel joke?

I’ll be there. -T

* * *

  
“You were on fire, Pete! Best goalie I’ve ever seen!” Sam gushed as he shoveled pizza into his mouth. Steve only rolled his eyes fondly. Normally he would tell him not to be a pig (to which Sam and eventually Peter would retort by oinking for the next hour), but he was so proud of Peter he didn’t seem to care. He could let it slide for just one night.

“You were a star, Little Bug,” Steve agreed, “Best on the team.”

Peter continued to retell the game in vivid detail for the rest of dinner, Sam and Steve lingering on his every word. Once he calmed, Steve decided it was time to speak up.

“Peter… Daddy texted me today,” he told him. The five year old went silent, as well as Sam. While he hadn’t shared his first conversation with Peter just yet, he had let Sam read it over several times. Steve took a deep breath and continued, “He’s coming to see your piano recital.”

“Really?” He almost didn’t seem to believe it, not daring to move from where he was eating. It made Steve desperately wish he didn’t have to worry about Tony not showing.

“Really,” He promised.

* * *

  
“Should I wear the blue? Or the red?”

Sam looked over from where he was holding down a squirming Peter, trying to comb down his unruly hair for just once in his life. “Again? I thought you decided on the green?”

Steve only sighed, looking down at the shirt he was already wearing, “But is it too green? Blue makes my eyes look better, but the red is more classy--”

“Steve,” Sam rose, letting Peter escape to scamper off and play with his toys, “you look great in everything. Wear what you want. I like the green.”

The blond pouted, though he would never admit it. He was a mess, had been all week in preparation for seeing his ex-husband. Sam, bless his heart, was being as helpful as he could, taking care of Peter more often, letting Steve freak out. “The green…?” He turned back to look in the mirror, setting the other two shirts down, “Okay but then what color tie do I wear?”

Sam laughed, pulling him in for a kiss. “You look great. Come on, this is about Peter.”

After a little more debate (he went with black, a classic color), Peter was secured in his carseat and they were on their way. Even though Steve thought he might vomit from the stress of it all, he had to keep reminding himself that this was for Peter. This was all for Peter.

* * *

 

Peter held his hand as they walked down the aisle of the church, the three of them fitting into a pew towards the front where all the other performers were sitting.

“Where’s Daddy?” Peter asked, squirming in his seat to look around, his bright blue piano book held close to his chest.

“He’s coming,” Steve glanced at his watch. Tony was coming. It was only 1:20, there was still plenty of time. He was coming.

“Hey,” Sam slipped a hand around his waist, giving him a comforting squeeze, “breathe.” Steve did his best to follow his orders, but he couldn’t help glancing back at the door.

“You’re gonna videotape him, right?” He asked, “Because Natasha and Clint wanted to see--”

“I’ve got it covered, Steve.”

The recital was running a little late, it was already five past, and Steve was ready to cry. Tony still wasn’t there. He was past the fear, the worry about seeing his ex-husband, and onto anger. How dare Tony let Peter down like this? How dare Steve let him get his hopes up?

“Hey.”

Steve looked up, past black slacks and a red shirt, a classic black tie, into the familiar glasses framed face of his first love. He looked nothing like Drunk Tony; his eyes were clear, his hair combed back into place. He looked like the man Steve fell in love with.

“Hey,” He greeted back, but didn’t get a chance to say much else before Peter took notice of the new comer.

“Daddy?” He looked up from Sam’s lap, sliding onto the floor and running over to him, but the boy stopped a foot away from him, glancing at Steve. It hurt, knowing that even now Peter still wasn’t sure, still didn’t know if Tony was safe.  
“Go on, Little Bug,” Steve nodded, giving him a warm smile. Peter ran forward, wrapping his arms around his legs. For a moment, Steve could pretend that this was them--that this was always them.

“Hey, big guy!” Tony smiled down at his son, ruffling his hair (the hair he and Sam took an hour to comb, damn it!), “You look great!”

“Papa made me wear my fancy clothes!” He blurted out, and once Tony opened the damn the words kept spilling out. Peter dragged his father to sit next to Steve on the pew, climbing between the two of them and babbling about his latest game, the new moves Sam taught him, the things he was learning about in school. Tony didn’t yell, didn’t complain, didn’t look anything but the picture parent. He listened, he nodded, and he oh’d and ah’d in all the right places.

The recital was starting and Steve had to bend down and remind his son to be quiet, that they could talk to Daddy more later, and that they were listening now. The program was short, and after a shaky rendition of the Itsy Bitsy Spider, it was Peter’s turn to play. Steve gave him a messy kiss on the cheek, and he paused to give Tony a big hug before running up to the stage.

It wasn’t the best Ode to Joy he’d ever heard, but Steve was reduced to tears by the end, giving his little boy a thumbs up as he finished, standing up to cheer with Sam. Peter came back red in the face, but proud of his work. Before Steve could scoop him up in his arms and congratulate him, Tony was telling him what a great job he did. The blond backed off. He’d have all dinner to tell Peter how impressed he was.

“What do you wanna do to celebrate, Little Bug?” Steve held the proud five year old’s hand, walking him out of the church.

“Can we go get ice cream?!” He bounced as he walked. Steve and Sam could have predicted it; ice cream was Peter’s favorite way to celebrate.

“Of course we can!” He laughed, “We’ll even get sprinkles!”

“Can Daddy come!?” Peter looked up at him with wide eyes; big, blue, and full of excitement Steve didn’t see as often as he wished. It broke his heart.

“Well, we’ll have to ask Daddy,” he nodded carefully, glancing back to Tony, who was still at Peter’s side. He had been quiet for the night, and hardly even looked at Steve. Not that he was surprised… Tony hated him. He said he hated him.

“Daddy?” Peter turned his puppy dog gaze to his father, and Tony bit his lip. They slowed to a stop on the side walk.

“I would love to, Pete,” Tony sunk to his knees, smiling at his son, “But I have to get back to work. I had a great time watching you play! You were fantastic.”

Peter visibly deflated, and Steve would give anything to be able to fix it, to make it all better for his baby boy. “So… you can’t come?”

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Tony sighed, “But I had such a great time seeing you today.”

“Will you come to my next recital?” He asked, glancing at Steve then back.

“As long as I know when it is,” He nodded, “I would love to.” He held out his arms, “Can I get a hug from my big man?”

Peter smiled, rushing forward to wrap his arms around his neck, “Love you, Daddy…”

Tony’s hand curled around his neck, supporting his head and holding him close; tight like he might slip away. “I love you, too, Peter.”

Steve let the two of them take their time. It was nice just to see Tony sober. While it stung that he himself wasn’t a good enough reason, he was proud to see Peter was. Finally the two let go, and Peter took his hand once more. “Come on, Little Bug, let’s get you in the car…”

* * *

As Steve went off with Peter, Sam and Tony stayed back, watching the two leave.

“So,” Tony turned to look him up and down, his arms crossed and jaw clenched in defense, “You’re… together?”

Sam bristled the same, his gaze still on Peter rather than the man next to him. “... Yeah. We are.”

There was a Sunday School class in the field next to them. The hymns and the birds were the only noise between the two for a long while.

“You love him?”

The sudden question pulled Sam’s gaze back to Tony, measuring him up for the first time.

“Do you?”

**Author's Note:**

> This work sure went through a lot! I love the pairing Steve/Tony more than anything, but I just felt like I had to test it a little bit! This is my first time writing any sort of Steve/Sam so I hope it went over well! Thank you for reading, all feedback is welcome :)


End file.
